


we could head to the coast, my love

by firefliesandstarlight



Series: geraskier oneshots [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Day At The Beach, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Found Family Vibes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, The Coast, canon is stupid except when i like it, ciri has 3 parents and i would die for all of them, comments and kudos sustain me, didnt look back once, i love that there’s a tag for that, i took the “lets go to the coast” line and ran, oh god i cant think of tags uh, ok thats it i think, they dont die in canon anyway lol but this is literally all fluff, this is a modern au anyway but, ty for reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25180630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefliesandstarlight/pseuds/firefliesandstarlight
Summary: blame it on the salty ocean breeze, if you will, or the sunlight spilling patterns on the surface of the sea, but jaskier and geralt say more than they ever thought they would, and yennefer and ciri are there to cheer them on.or: jaskier, geralt, yen, and ciri go to the coast for a day at the beach
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: geraskier oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792660
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	we could head to the coast, my love

**Author's Note:**

> only warning is an instance of canon-typical swearing 
> 
> hope u enjoy the geraskier fluff n some found family vibes

The sun hovers at the top of sky, rays pushing through the half-shuttered blinds in Geralt and Jaskier’s hotel room. Geralt, sitting at the foot of the bed, leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, painted a light blue that was clearly chosen by someone who never quite left the 80’s. 

“Are you ready yet?” Geralt asks the room at large. “It’s been so, so very long since you said you’d be done, Jask.” 

“I’m almost done!” Jaskier yells from the bathroom. Geralt can’t see Jaskier, but Jaskier can sort of see Geralt, if he tilts his head at an angle and looks sideways at the mirror on the bathroom wall. “And it hasn’t been long, Geralt, you’re exaggerating. I’ve only been in here for, what, ten minutes? Fifteen, max.” 

Through his reflection in the mirror, Jaskier sees Geralt tear his gaze from the ceiling to look out the windows, instead. 

“We didn’t come to the beach for the weekend to stay inside the whole time, you know.” 

“I know, I know.” Jaskier reaches for the hairbrush he’d left on the rim of the sink moments ago. “I literally just have to finish up my hair and then we’ll be good to go.” 

Geralt, Jaskier sees, opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, there’s a knock on the door, followed by the sound of a slightly muffled voice. 

“Ciri, leave them alone, I’m sure they’re almost ready.” 

“But Yennefer, Geralt promised we’d go at ten o’clock, and it’s almost eleven thirty!” Ciri raps on the door again, this time directing her voice through the small crack between door and frame. “Are you ready to go, yet?”

Instead of answering, Geralt stands and walks over to the door. “You know, our rooms are connected. You really didn’t have to come all the way around to ask.” He opens the door to reveal Yennefer and Cirilla, both decked out in proper beach apparel, holding a folding chair and a bucket of beach toys, respectively. 

“She insisted,” Yennefer explains, making no movement to try and stop Ciri from running inside and jumping up onto the bed. “I felt it only fair. You and your buddy over there are taking a ridiculously long time.” 

“Hey!” Jaskier appears in the doorway to the bathroom, hair half-brushed, a curling iron in one hand. “It’s not ridiculous to take time to present oneself well.” 

Yennefer laughs. She leans her folding chair up against a wall and sits down on the bed, taking the space Geralt had just vacated. “You know I don’t disagree, Jaskier, but you’re just going to stick your feet in the sand and skip around in the sea for a bit. It’s not a gala.” 

“Perhaps not to you,” Jaskier says haughtily, turning on one heel to face the mirror once more. 

Geralt sighs. “He insists on looking his best at all times.”

Ciri, bouncing slightly on the bed, drops her bucket to the floor with a clatter and plops down on the pillows. “Won’t the wind just muss up your hair again, though, Jaskier? There’s no point in doing all that if it ends up all tangled in three seconds.” 

“In order to achieve the peak windswept look, one must first have the best curls possible.” Jaskier unplugs the curling iron and leaves it lying on the edge of the sink. “But not to worry! I’m done. Let’s go.” 

“Not so fast!” 

Jaskier stops in the doorway leading out to the hotel hallway, hands up in surrender. “What? What’s the matter?” 

Geralt looks at Jaskier for a moment, eyebrows raised. Jaskier gives him a rather confused look in return, and Geralt sighs again. 

“Jaskier.” 

“Yes?” 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Whatever do you mean, o Geralt, master of the all-black summer wardrobe?” 

“Shut up. This is about you.” 

“Aren’t all things?” 

Even Yennefer has to suppress a laugh at that one. Ciri scoots off the bed and goes to stand by Geralt, who’s standing with Jaskier at the door. 

“Nice one, Jaskier.” 

“Thank you, Ciri.” They high-five, and Geralt carries on. 

“I  _ mean _ ,” he says, staring pointedly at Jaskier’s outfit as a whole, “why are you wearing  _ that _ .” It’s not a question so much as it is a statement of grudgingly admiring recognition. 

“Oh, these old things? I found them at the bottom of my suitcase and figured I’d give ‘em a whirl.” 

Jaskier, in sharp, glowing contrast to Geralt’s black swim trunks, t-shirt, and flip-flops, is wearing rainbow-striped shorts, a blindingly white shirt that reads “Happiness is a day at the beach” in all caps, and wedge flip-flops— also rainbow, of course. He holds his arms out, letting Geralt take in the full effect. 

“What do you think?”

“I—”

“That’s the coolest outfit ever, Jaskier,” Ciri says, cutting Geralt off. She runs over to where she left her sand bucket, hair tumbling out of the loose braid Yennefer helped her put it in. “And we can finally go! I’m so excited. One of my friends from school, his name is Dara, you remember him, right? You met him on orientation day. Anyway, he told me that he went to the beach once and he found this huge crab. Bigger than his hand, even! Do you think we’ll find a crab like that?”

Jaskier pulls a pair of rainbow sunglasses out of a previously unforeseen pocket of his shorts and puts them on. “I dunno, Ciri. I think our chances of finding a bunch of seashells are pretty good, though.”

“Ooh, really? What sorts do you think we’ll find?”

Ciri and Jaskier lead the way out of Geralt and Jaskier’s hotel room, chatting away. Yennefer follows, picking up her folding chair on the way out, and Geralt brings up the rear of their beach-bound procession, still shaking his head at the pure, unrestrained, confident absurdity of Jaskier. 

The beach is colder than they expected it would be. 

It doesn’t take them long to make it to the sand. They booked their hotel specifically for its location: right on the edge of the beach, overlooking the waves. Plus, Yennefer somehow managed to get a miraculous deal on their rooms. 

Looking out over the ocean, sand pushing up between her toes, Yennefer appraises the spot Ciri has chosen to make camp for the afternoon. 

“Not bad, little one.” She unfolds her chair, wedges the feet deep into the sand, and sits. “Nice view of the waves, optimal sand firmness but not too close to the water. I like it.” 

Ciri grins. “I knew you would!” She dumps her bucket of sand toys at Yennefer’s feet. “Can I go get my feet wet? Please?” 

“Go,” Yennefer says with a smile, and Ciri claps. 

“Thank you thank you thank you! I won’t go in too deep, promise.” Ciri runs off, kicking up sand with each step. Yennefer watches as she plunges right into the water, seemingly immune to its chill. 

“Geralt?” 

Geralt nods, already standing at the edge of the water. “I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry.” 

Yennefer, satisfied that Ciri will come to no harm, slides on a tinted pair of sunglasses and leans back in her chair, legs stretched out, feet invisible under a small pile of sand. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier calls from the top of a sizeable rock he’s managed to scramble to the top of. “Look!” 

Geralt turns, keeping one eye on Ciri. “That’s a really big rock,” is all he says, though secretly he thinks that Jaskier must be some sort of mountain goat or something, in order to be able to climb that. 

The rock stands where the ocean meets the sand. Easily twenty feet tall and twice as wide, it casts very little shadow in the noon heat, though there’s a thick rim of barnacles clinging to the bottom of it. 

“Come on up!” Jaskier motions wildly, gesturing for Geralt to climb up to meet him. “It’s fun!” 

Geralt looks at Jaskier, then at the rock, then back at Jaskier. He remains fully aware of Ciri, who is still splashing around in the shallows. 

“Yennefer?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Watch Ciri, would you?” 

Yennefer sighs and sits up. The sunglasses do not move an inch. “Go climb the rock, Geralt. Live out your dreams.” 

Geralt makes a face. “Hmm.” Ciri skips around a bit in the water, and Geralt gives her a thumbs up. She returns the gesture, and Geralt points to Yennefer and makes the ‘I’m watching you’ motion. Ciri, understanding the parental supervision transfer, nods and waves to Yennefer, who waves back. 

“I’m coming, Jaskier!” Geralt yells, and Jaskier gives him a double thumbs up, then proceeds to take two steps backwards and disappear from view. 

Geralt’s heartbeat quickens. He takes the last few steps necessary to reach the rock at a run, cursing the soft sand beneath his feet that’s slowing his pace. 

He climbs the rock in record time, avoiding every sharp crevice and every slippery patch. 

“Jaskier?” 

No reply. 

“Jaskier?” Panicking, now. If Jaskier had fallen, if he’d hit his head on the rock, if he’d—

Managed to sneak his lute down to the sand with him and was sitting carelessly in a little divot carved out in the rock, strumming away, completely oblivious to Geralt’s worry. 

“Jaskier, what the  _ fuck _ ,” Geralt gasps out, bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. 

Jaskier looks up innocently, the sun reflecting off his artfully tousled hair and giving him a sunlight halo. “Hmm? Oh, good, Geralt, you’re here! You climbed up awfully fast. I’m impressed.” He shoots Geralt a roguish grin before turning back to his lute. “Okay, okay, I’ve had an idea. What if I did a thing like…” 

Fingers dancing nimbly over the lute strings, Jaskier strums out a simple tune. He hums along under his breath, subconsciously dipping his head in time with the music. 

“And then I did a…” 

He mumbles a few lyrics, then shakes his head, discarding the idea. “Nah, nevermind, I don’t think that’s going to work… Geralt? What’s wrong?” 

Geralt stares into Jaskier’s cornflower blue eyes, idly thinking that they remind him of the summer sky, a bit, now that he’s thinking about it. Try as he might, Geralt can’t ignore the thumping in his chest, the blood rising in his cheeks, the way Jaskier’s semi-confused but still drop-dead beautiful smile makes his mouth curl into one, too… 

Before he knows it, Geralt has taken a step forward, opened his mouth to say something he’ll surely regret—

“Argh!” 

Geralt’s flip-flop, caught on an easy-to-miss bit of jutting-out rock, twists, and Geralt goes tumbling down. Luckily, he lands on his arse, and mostly on Jaskier, his back against Jaskier’s thighs. 

“Geralt! Are you okay?” Jaskier cradles Geralt’s head in one hand and helps him sit up. Caught between a laugh and an expression of sympathy, Jaskier chokes out a sort of snort, and Geralt looks up from brushing off his shorts, playing at being offended. 

“I fall over my own flip-flop, very stupidly, and land on my arse, and you, Jaskier, whom I thought were my friend, my ally, my— ah, fuck, I’ve run out of endearing terms,—  _ laugh _ at me? You  _ laugh _ , kind sir, at my truly  _ gut-wrenchingly _ awful predicament? How dare—”

And suddenly Jaskier is crashing against Geralt like a wave against the shore and they are intertwined, Jaskier with his arms around Geralt and Geralt with his arms around Jaskier, kissing like there’s no tomorrow, Jaskier’s lute sitting off to the side, forgotten. 

They only pull apart when Ciri, assisted by a smug-looking Yennefer, climbs up to see what Geralt and Jaskier are doing. 

“Yennefer?” 

“Yes, Ciri?” 

“Are Geralt and Jaskier finally realizing they’re in love?” 

“I do believe they are, Ciri.” 

“ _ Finally _ .” 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

Geralt and Jaskier pull apart. Jaskier holds his head high, though he’s blushing the deepest red physically possible. Geralt rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Jaskier clears his throat, and Geralt desperately tries to change the subject. 

“As I was saying, those rainbow shorts are too much,” Geralt begins, but Yennefer holds up a hand to stop him. 

“Get over yourself, Geralt. You’re literally the last one to know you love him.” 

“Love?” Geralt sputters. “Who said anything about love? I didn’t say anything about  _ love _ .” 

Jaskier kisses Geralt’s nose, and Ciri giggles. 

“Geralt, darling?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I think it’s love.” 

Geralt sighs, meeting Jaskier’s gaze. He smiles softly. “Yeah, I think it is.” 

Yen and Ciri fist bump. 

“Do you want to build a sandcastle?” Ciri asks, once the conversation has fully halted and Yennefer’s smugness threatens to drown them all faster than the ocean ever could. 

Geralt practically jumps to his feet. “Yes! Yes I would.” 

Jaskier, having taken a slight detour to grab his lute and sling it across his back for safekeeping, clambers down the rock last, after Ciri and Yennefer have already made it to the bottom and Geralt is halfway down. 

The sandcastle has a rather rocky start to its life. 

The foundation is solid enough. Yennefer spends a half an hour lecturing Ciri on the importance of a firm base. Ciri uses the bucket she brought to carry wet sand to a spot by Yennefer’s chair, designated for the sandcastle. 

Geralt helps with the turrets and walls. “The walls,” he says, “are the most important part. They have to be thick, strong, and able to withstand any attack.” 

A bold seagull swoops down and hops around the sandcastle, tilting its head curiously. It hops closer, and Ciri coos, until the bird sticks its neck out, topples one of the walls, and flies away. 

“Aww, stupid seagull.” 

“Never trust a seagull,” Geralt says solemnly. They both dissolve into laughter. The sandcastle wall is rebuilt in no time. 

Jaskier, after leaving his lute in Yen’s care, helps Ciri collect shells to use to decorate the castle. They find all manner of little trinkets, from abandoned barnacle shells to sand dollars, and even, to Ciri’s delight, an empty hermit crab shell. 

“This can go on the tower in the middle!” Ciri holds the shell up, letting the sunlight glint off the shiny exterior. 

“Perfect!” Jaskier sweeps his hands dramatically to the castle. “A lovely touch. Just what the castle needed.” He takes a sand dollar off the top of the small pile he and Ciri accumulated. “Shall I put this here, in the middle of this wall, to serve as a sort of door? A drawbridge, perhaps?” 

Ciri nods. She finds another sand dollar of similar dimensions to the first in the pile, and puts it face-down in the sand, with one end touching the bottom of the one Jaskier pushed into the sand castle wall. “There! Now we have a door and a bridge.” 

“You know what that means…” Jaskier says, drawing a circle in the sand around the castle with one finger. 

“A moat!” Ciri cheers, deepening and widening the circle with the assistance of a shovel she’d brought in her bucket of sand toys. “Can you go get the water for it? The bucket should be somewhere nearby.” 

“On it!” Jaskier stands and, brushing the sand off of his shorts, grabs the bucket in question. He traipses off to the water. 

Jaskier has been vaguely aware of someone sitting at the edge of the water for some time, ever since he and Ciri started looking for shells. It’s only when Jaskier gets close and can see the person’s face that he realizes it’s Geralt. 

He sits, setting the bucket down at his side and crossing his legs beneath him. 

Geralt doesn’t say anything, just looks out at the sea, arms crossed over his knees. His hair, white as ever, has magically stayed put in its casual bun, though a few strands have escaped and are gently dancing in the wind. 

“Sand dollar for your thoughts?” Jaskier holds out a seashell, its flat round shape small in his calloused hand. 

Geralt chuckles. He doesn’t look at Jaskier, but he answers. 

“I’m just thinking.” 

“‘Bout what?” Jaskier scoots closer, leaving a coarse trail of sand in his wake that’s quickly filled in by a little wave. 

“About you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” 

Geralt doesn’t elaborate, and Jaskier doesn’t ask him to. 

“Did I… did we…” Jaskier picks at the hem of his shirt. “Did what happened… did it make you uncomfortable? If it did, there’s no need to worry, we can just forget about it. It won’t happen again, I swear.” 

“Jaskier.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s not that.” 

“Oh.” Jaskier exhales a breath he wasn’t really aware he was holding. “What is it, then?” 

“It’s…” Geralt sighs, finally turning to Jaskier. “I’m afraid,” he says simply, and Jaskier’s mouth runs dry. 

“I think I understand.” 

“Let me finish,” Geralt says, eyes softening. “I’m afraid that if we… if we’re more, our friendship will be… less. I don’t want… I don’t want to lose you.” 

Jaskier barks out a laugh. The ocean breeze carries it away. “Geralt, my love, the last thing you have to worry about is losing me.” Geralt looks back out to the sea, and Jaskier leans his head on Geralt’s shoulder, following his gaze. “You’ve got me for as long as you want me, and probably far past even that.” 

Geralt smiles, and Jaskier feels him hum. “You called me ‘love’.” 

“No,” Jaskier corrects. “I called you ‘ _ my _ love’.” 

“I like it.” 

Jaskier lets Geralt’s words hang in the air for a moment. He likes the way the wind blows them back to him.  _ I like it _ .  _ Being yours _ . 

A wave laps up against their feet, and Jaskier shivers and snuggles in closer to Geralt. “I like it, too.” 

Jaskier closes his eyes and pretends not to notice when Ciri walks over, mumbles something about how her dads are too busy making lovey faces at each other to remember to get her her moat water, and takes the bucket he left next to him. 

Ciri fills the bucket with water and walks back to the sand castle and, by extension, Yennefer, the heavy bucket straining her arms. 

“Did you get the water you need?” Yennefer asks, watching Ciri pour the water carefully into the moat. 

“Yep!” Ciri steps back to admire her work, proudly observing the moat water swirling around her architectural masterpiece. “Though Jaskier was no help at all with the moat water.” 

Yennefer smiles. She gets up from her chair and stands next to Ciri, eyes lighting on the shell positioned on the tallest tower of the castle. 

“Ah, don’t mind him.” Yennefer gently lays a hand on Ciri’s shoulder, a gesture of praise. “He’s been pining after Geralt for at least ten years. It’s a miracle they’ve managed to communicate their feelings at all.” 

Ciri smiles. “Trust me, I know.” Yennefer laughs softly at that. 

“Should we go and see if they want to participate in the ‘family’ part of our ‘family outing’? The sun is starting to go down, and I know you wanted to break out the beach ball.” 

“Ooh, good idea!” Ciri digs around in her sand toys and pulls out a beach ball; it’s mildly deflated, but it’ll do. “I’m gonna go toss it at them!” 

“You do that.” Yennefer watches Ciri run over to Jaskier and Geralt, pause, and hurl the beach ball at their heads. Carried over on the breeze are sounds of teasing protests and laughter. 

Geralt stands and swings Ciri around, giving Jaskier time to retrieve the beach ball and restore it to its former glory, inflation-wise. 

The four of them play with the beach ball until the sun sets, tossing it around using increasingly creative passes and changing games every few minutes. Nobody keeps score very consistently or with any lack of bias, so by the end of their games, each insists they’ve won, to the lighthearted dissent of the others. Ciri says she’s accrued two million points, whereas Jaskier swears up and down he’s got three; Geralt says that he and Jaskier were a team against Yennefer and Ciri, and thus, have won, (everyone knows this is just because Geralt failed miserably at all the beach ball games, though, whether purposefully or otherwise); and Yennefer says that her independent point score outnumbered that of everyone else by a factor of ten. 

“Alas, I suppose we shall have to agree to disagree,” Jaskier says, drawing the passionate score discussion they held on their way back to the hotel to a close. “That was a lovely day at the beach, everyone.” 

“It was! Thanks for all your help on my sandcastle.” Ciri, balancing all of her sand toys and a now fully inflated beach ball, nods to each of her parents in turn. 

“It was a pleasure,” Yennefer smiles, folding chair again tucked under her arm. “I hope you all actually put on sunscreen, so we won’t be hearing any complaints of sunburn tomorrow.” 

Nervous laughter from Jaskier and Ciri prompts a rolling of the eyes from both Geralt and Yen. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Geralt, last to speak, reaches out and takes Jaskier’s hand in his. “Today was… well, you know.” He looks to his family and smiles. “It was a good idea to get away to the coast for a day, Jaskier.” 

“Thank you, Geralt.” 

“Hmm.”

“Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading! comments n kudos greatly appreciated <3
> 
> ~~can u tell idk how to make a sandcastle :P~~


End file.
